Red Sky At Morning
by Into-The-Fire5
Summary: A month since Celestia was taken in by the Saviours, adjusting to the community is difficult after surviving on her own for so long. It gets harder when their leader takes a particular interest in her. Though to her surprise, Celestia begins to play more of a significant role at the Sanctuary than she bargained for. {Negan x OC}
1. Chapter 1

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Struggling for air, the noises that began escaping me sounded inhuman as my entire body quaked where I stood. The atmosphere seemed to pause. Another swing of the bat sends adrenaline coursing through me and a rush to my head. I shut off the rest of the world closing in on me. Crimson soaking my hands, coating my face, a streak slides like a slithering snake down my tense cheek, while suffocating in the strong stench of iron. Vision blurring, my other senses focus on distinct sounds of a skull caving in with every crunch, and sickly flesh breaking apart like a crushed fruit. Taking sharp intakes of breath in an attempt to ground myself, the unrecognisable mess he was turning into with each passing swing flashed behind my lids. I don't recall how things progressed to this moment, only made left to wonder, was all this inevitable?

_"Celestia!"_

…

_"Celestia! Stay with us here! We've gotta move!"_

Much like abruptly waking from a nightmare, I pant shakily and stare straight through the man desperately trying to gain my attention as I begin to process my surroundings again. Within a breath, he begins unloading bullets over my shoulder, enough to startle me for a moment. Suddenly remembering where I was, I join my companion and face the oncoming horde, holding them back as much as I could. I pick up movement beside me, the others were frantically loading crate upon crate of every scavenged supply into the back of our van. Though the unfaltering multitude of walking corpses, draws back my attention.

How can so many suddenly appear out of the coverts like this? There were so many of them. Despite a group of us dispatching, I feel like we're not making any difference at all to their numbers. They just keep coming. Closer. Like a swarm of ants surrounding a carcass, they would be all over us instantly.

I couldn't help but feel acutely aware of how many shells we were using up. This isn't working. But as soon as I think of going to assist with the provisions myself, I hear the others call us, over the deafening sounds of gunshots. I instinctively sprint for our vehicle, practically leaping inside while our driver frantically kicks the engine into gear. Screeching tires and smell of burning rubber as we jolt forward at full throttle. I reach out to just barely pull the last person inside with a walker snapping at their heels, slamming the door shut. More of the undead began emerging from among the trees almost in every direction, causing the van to swerve at best to avoid colliding with any stragglers.

"We can't let them follow us. Shit..." The burly man at the wheel began losing his nerve, blurting out a string of curses to himself and clamping his foot down on the pedal.

The cluster of noises from the horde travel like a tidal wave as our ride pelts by, continuing to fall back from any more impending danger.

My heartbeat races the entire time, filling my ears, as I'm blind to what is happening outside. A silence falls inside the dark, sweltering van. All of us holding our breaths and curling in on ourselves. I clutch at my weapon, waiting for something to happen. I know I would sink into my stomach if we were to encounter more around the turning corner. I only pray that it won't happen. The sense of dread was filling me from head to toe, until amid all the chaos and haunting growls of never ending hunger, I suddenly hear the distant blare of something to the east. The amount of turning heads around me signifies I'm not the only one to have heard it. Listening intently, it sounds like… a horn? From a large vehicle. Whatever it is, it sounds big. Big enough to reach wherever we are.

Forcing myself up and looking out the window, a significant number of the herd had made a sharp turn in the direction of the noise, seemingly losing interest in us completely. That's when I sink back down to my place with a sigh of relief; too busy composing myself and letting my heart settle to even listen to what the others were firing back and forth at each other. I only tune back in when they suddenly raise their voices. I hope the blaring doesn't stop anytime soon, for our sake.

"The hell was that?" A male speaks harshly, moving his focus to each of our faces in the back.

"Had to be a horn... from a truck or something. Sounded miles away." The driver responds, clutching harder at the wheel as he flicks his wide eyes to the rear mirrors. In the distance, he could probably spot the herd wandering back through the woods. The sight seems to gain his composure.

"Who'd be stupid enough to do that?" Another speaks up, in much contrast, sounding so casual about the matter whilst running a hand through his ruffled hair with a deep sigh.

"Nobody's that stupid. Gotta be an accident. Poor fucks."

True. Either it was an accident, or some kind of tactic. A diversion, maybe? That seems like a smart idea. Risky and ridiculous.. but smart. Though judging where our recent herd was wandering, it may backfire on them. Tragically. I shouldn't really dwell on it too much, but despite not knowing who they are - and for all I know, they could be the worst kind of filth surviving this world - I find myself feeling commiseration for what's travelling their way. You'd see remains of carnage like that frequently.

"Whatever's going on… that was a hell of a lucky escape for us. I couldn't sleep at night knowing we might've lead them back. I don't need shit like that on my conscience."

"Yeah, you don't need another excuse to shit yourself." A presence I hadn't even known to be sitting next to the driver, started gently nudging his soiled boot on the guys broad arm playfully.

There isn't any trace of malice when the man grabs his ankle and shoves it away from him with a scoff followed by a light chuckle. I even catch hints of a smile. It's odd, but refreshing how quickly the panic talk turned into friendly banter. The air seemed just a little lighter now.

"Even if they'd turned up at our gates, we would've wasted them all, with the amount of people and firepower we have."

That might have been true, but the dead always manage to find a way in, and the uncertainty was enough to feed everyone's paranoia. Some much worse than others, especially those who show they've been sheltered a long time. It's just a matter of when, not if_._ With this lingering thought in mind, I keep quiet, looking down at my hands while they converse among themselves. Although I've experienced a few standard runs with this group, I'm not exactly familiar with them. They all seem pretty close to each other though, that it occasionally makes me feel out of place. I was still a fairly new face here, an outsider, after -

"Shit never gets any easier does it, Celestia?" The man at the wheel addresses me in a guttural tone, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"No, it doesn't. Be sure to let me know when it does." I reply with a humourless sigh, unsure of where to look when I feel people's attention on me. Early days, I must have been labelled or nicknamed as a mute or something, since I would never speak unless spoken to. Just always preferred to keep to myself. Hard habits to break. There's a lingering silence that follows before he speaks up again – asking what I had been anticipating.

"You alright? I mean, what the hell happened out there?" He clarifies, staring straight at me in the mirror.

Frustration from what occurred earlier sets in my skin. "Yeah, I'm fine. I... honestly don't know what happened. But thanks for covering me." They have every right to have their concerns, but the unspoken words around me is enough to make my stomach shrink.

"You're a damn good shot. Can't lose you anytime soon." Surprisingly, the words felt genuine.

I huff softly at that, easing a little, if only for a moment.

Scavenging becomes such a routine in this world that often you forget what you're even doing. Your mind goes into automatic and doesn't think twice of the situation. However long we've had to adjust and adapt, a small unpleasant feeling still buries and spreads beneath the surface. _Fear._Afraid of the no difference to how many walkers I kill, just seeing them every waking day to remind us all that our world isn't our own anymore is enough. Despite what others may conclude, no matter how minor it is, it remains. Because even now, there are still more of the dead than there are of the living left among us.

More silence befell most of the ride back, possibly due to the shock, or perhaps these people were actually well accustomed to it before my arrival. I don't utter a word. Instead fixating my attention to the floor, despite feeling eyes on me occasionally. I can sense their curiosity but no-one takes the lead. I bring my gun closer to my chest, still feeling somewhat tense the longer we drive and suppressing a sense of dread was made almost impossible when becoming intensely aware of how still it was outside. No bird songs or other chirping creatures, no whistles of wind through the virescent, towering trees above - just the scratching of tires on the earthly road. Only when the familiar gates appeared in the distance, did the tension seem to dissipate. At last.

Yet upon arrival, I observe once again how menacing the Sanctuary appears up close; everything highly secure to lengths of barbed wire, iron plates and stationary men carrying heavy gear with its looming metallic structures in the background. The warm, amber glow of the vast sky only adds to the eeriness, casting most of it in looming darkness. Ironically, it reminded me of a prison. Perhaps that's what this place truly was. There was still much I didn't know about the community I'd somehow landed in.

Nonetheless, scanning countless faces as we pass through and hearing the scrape and slam of solid metal closing behind us, I finally settle and relinquish hold of my weapon. Another run with no casualties, though we were undoubtedly lucky. Following the others out of the vehicle, someone seizes me in constricting arms the second my feet touch the gravel. I instinctively freeze before catching the flash of blonde locks pressed to me and splayed down their form. Ah, Madison. Though the term 'friend' is rather loose these days, she was the closest I had to it. She was also the physical in affection type, much to my disdain. Eventually cutting the embrace, she stiffens at the dark stains on my clothes.

Her eyes stay on me. "You guys were supposed to be back by noon. What the hell happened?"

"Call it a sidetrack."

"What... does that mean?" Glaring slightly, Madison began glancing down my frame, seeming to be checking me over. Horror soon spreads to her face. "Oh god, you're not - "

"No. God, no. It's not mine." I return, focusing on the others for a moment. "A herd cut us off on the main road, so we had to divert. Once we got back from a scavenge though, they were swarming us. Luckily, something drove them away before they had a chance to follow us, so we should be fine." For now.

"You okay? No one's hurt?"

Glancing over at the group once more unloading the crates of stock from the van, the supplies that we almost sacrificed ourselves for, I watch them talk amongst themselves. "No one's said anything otherwise." I reply calmly, shifting on the spot.

Madison exhales deeply, a warm, relieved smile appearing on her face. "Thank god."

"I know." Turning from her slowly, I start assisting with the last remaining supplies, gripping the boxes tightly whilst flashing a look inside to take in its contents.

We were fortunate to stumble across a great deal of supplies for the infirmary and plenty of canned food. While we're growing plenty of crops and getting produce from elsewhere unknown to me, it seems this community still expands gradually, as I hear discussions of other, smaller locations. Just how large is this group? How many links does it have?

"So, what did you find?" She questions, walking beside me as I carry box upon box and bag inside, the supplies rustling and clinking together each step I take.

"Quite a haul. I think it almost made dying, worth it." I chuckle, brushing it off as we pass more people. Biting the inside of my cheek, I glance over at her. "We got a load of medical supplies, surely something in here that should be useful."

Madison suddenly pauses, her brow knitted as she studies my face carefully. "I think you know what's in there. You didn't go out of your way to get them for me, did you?" When I don't give her a answer, she sighs heavily.

"Look, someone else before or after us could've have picked them up. They weren't attended for and I wasn't about to miss the opportunity. You need them. Not some faceless, nameless stranger."

She hangs her head, battling with herself of what to say as we continue walking side by side through the hallways filled with echoes of saviours at work bouncing off the walls. Before long, the drawn-out silence between us begins eating away at my patience, eyes flicking over to her occasionally.

Madison doesn't avert her own from the floor, grasping at her arm and tucking a strand of golden hair behind her ear. "…Thank you." She murmurs. It's enough for me to give a nod back.

After parting ways as she returns to the food court, two of my group and I take a detour to transport the rest with care. While walking inside again, I momentarily overlook how enormous the buildings really are. It would be easy to lose your bearings around here, specifically as each turn of the corner looks so similar.

While almost any trace of time is lost, it's been some time since I was first brought to The Sanctuary with the Saviours. Everything about it screamed odd. However, it may have been a rescue, as there was no way of knowing how much longer I would've lasted out there on my lonesome. For any drifting survivor, this was a blessing. Though such a place didn't operate without rules and regulations. One had to earn their keep. Fulfilling work duties from making and serving food in the food court, harvesting, transporting, patrolling, cleaning, handling ammo, dealing with walkers, to going scavenging in groups on the occasional run. The joys of having to work for points.

It still astounded me how even setting foot in here was due to encountering their leader during a scavenge. Though calling him a leader, could strike being a bit of an understatement, particularly when you see him in person, flashing a signature grin and expecting you crawl to the floor to lick his boots.

As if on cue to my incessant thoughts, my eyes catch a glimpse of _him _outside, strolling around the premises with that same expression, enjoying every moment of his empowerment, that this whole operation was his and his alone. I observe as the men and women kneel before him without hesitance. I can't help but scoff at the sight. It was still like nothing I'd ever seen before, at least, before everything happened.

Then of course I knew exactly why he had first proposed the idea of heading back with him, apart from one person like myself proving no real threat to this highly populated establishment of trigger-happy folk. I wasn't a fool. He wasn't subtle about it at all, I doubt subtlety rolls with him in the slightest, at least that's my impression. Despite that, I kept my head down and adjusted to living here the best I could. Surviving for so long on my own, it's difficult to be surrounded by people again, especially these sorts of people. The brawl over brains type. While some were clearly afraid, living every day as if it were their last, others are arrogant and quick tempered, jumping at the slightest opportunity to start a disturbance and take whatever they wish. I suddenly wonder if their leader moulds them into that. Which is why I loathed the first days spent here, close to packing up and leaving by any means necessary, but, would I rather be out there on the run, completely dependent on myself with little to no chance against raiders, or what had just occurred today, or in here? Logically, this place was the best opportunity I had, and I wasn't prepared to dismiss it so hastily. Had to learn to adapt, just like everyone else.

Crouching slowly with the brush in hand and taking in the faint, crimson stains on the floor, I can only imagine what must've gone down in this room. Pushing it to the back of my mind, I dunk the brush in the bucket of tepid water next to me and use as much force as I can muster scrubbing at the concrete. I felt strangely similar to a house maid that I shake my head.

Scrubbing the floor for what felt like hours, I can feel the heavy exhaustion in my hands, my arms, fingers becoming red and raw, so I switch over to the mop. In a zone of my own, I almost miss the sounds coming from down the hallway. My shoulders tense involuntary when the distinct sound of that obnoxious whistling approaches, along with striding footsteps. I dare not look behind me as I hear him pass, stopping my movements like a deer caught in the headlights, trying to prevent any draw of attention to me. Perhaps fate will be merciful, and he'll ignore me this time. Once he keeps going without a pause, I sigh. It wasn't that I was fearful of him, despite the rumours I hear about him and his infamous bat, but that doesn't mean I particularly enjoy his company neither.

Continuing, I finish up as quick as I'm able, so I can spend what remains of the day in peace. Or so I'd hoped, when the treads suddenly return and stop dead in the doorway behind me, the hairs rising on the back of my neck. Eyes bore into me and my attempts to disregard his presence ultimately fails when that deep southern voice ripples like waves through my body.

"Handlin' yourself alright there, darlin'? "

_Oh, fucking -_

»»—- —-««


	2. Chapter 2

»»—- —-««

Negan is not a welcome sight at this time, I sense he gets a kick out of catching me off guard. Always the opportunist. Suddenly the room feels a lot smaller than it is. I squeeze the handle tight, as if trying to let any unpleasantness on my features and stiffness from my body seep into the wood. Being approached by him frequently and unanticipated, dismissing others around him as soon as he lays eyes on me, like that of a spotlight singling me out, I got the hint that he was still after that challenge. I can't imagine why, after all this waiting around, and especially when discovering he has other women who would more than appreciate his company, or at least pretend to. Putting down his advances right now, I was less than in the mood for.

I let his question linger in the air for a moment, before eventually turning to face him, instantly meeting those dark orbs that never hid their intentions. I know from experience it's not wise to ignore Negan, not directly anyway. "I'm managing fine. I'm just finishing up here... sir." I add with a snark, which earns me a light scoff. I suddenly wonder if I'm supposed to be somewhere else with the way he watches me continue mopping. I don't even know why I'm putting so much effort in at this point, no one expects these floors to be immaculate. Soon there'll be other remains of the next poor bastard injured in this room.

"Heard you had trouble today."

My brows furrow, pondering what he's referring to and little too late does realisation sink in. His piercing stare continued to make matters worse. "Not sure why word's spreading about it. Nothing that couldn't be handled, we all made it back." Weakly shrugging it off.

Spotting a smirk tugging at his lips at my bluntness, Negan continues to hold my gaze. "That you did." He twists his gloved grip on Lucille, looking to his side, almost like trying to distract himself from something. "You certainly know how to handle yourself don't you, doll?"

I don't let the adoration get to my head, it sounds too much like he's buttering me up. "No more than other people can." I say shortly, wanting to keep this exchange equally as short.

"If you say so." He snorts, confident in his conviction. "Would've been a damn shame if we lost ya."

Well damn, that actually sounded sincere. I simply hum with a nod in return while Negan gives the impression he wishes to say more. In the silence, I make the mistake of letting my curious eyes wander. Wouldn't be surprising if I spoke for many that Negan has a certain magnetism about him that draws you in despite better judgement, makes your walls crumble and cave to your knees. I'm usually able to recognise trouble and yet, somehow, it doesn't keep me strayed away entirely. It's hard to identify what it is exactly. Despite being so indifferent in the beginning, due to more pressing matters of survival, the longer I stayed and the more he appeared around the Sanctuary, I was soon just another caught in his palm. It's no wonder a great quantity of men in here aspire to be like him, practically seeping with envy. Though it doesn't necessarily mean they all like him. In a place such as this, you hear things. Some fear him, some despise him. But even then, nothing disrupts the order of Negan's reign, it's the same set up that everybody tries to suck up to the guy for their own benefits. Regardless, there's a part of me that remains grateful to their leader for the decision to take me in, in spite of the encounter, and the deeper, devious intentions. He could have easily abandoned me in the dirt, given the circumstances.

"You're fitting in well, huh? - making friends." He rolls his tongue again, otherwise blowing the chances of leaving anytime soon. "Like that pretty little thing I see you tailing with a lot."

A rush of protectiveness overtakes me, but I refuse to act on it, biting back words. Not yet. "I'm not so sure. People here don't seem to fair a high opinion of me, not that it matters. We're all just, doing what we're doing."

"On the goddamn contrary," Negan's scoff breaks into my contemplation as he points at me. "You're more of a person of interest here than you think. They talk about you. Shit, my guys especially."

I grimace. He reads my expression and chuckles.

"Easy, darlin'. I hear any of that, I shut that shit down quick, but if I ain't one to know better, I'd say you've got their intimidated asses tighter than the doc's asshole. I like that." Negan smiles slyly, tongue prodding the inside of his cheek. "So, can't blame a man for being curious from all that, besides finding you fucking hot as all hell."

I'm not sure what to feel from all this. "Oh." Was all that passed my lips, though managing to hide the amusement that threatened to show. Well, anything for people to leave me in peace I suppose. Nevertheless, gnawing my lip and leaning my weight to one side, I feel this chat had gone on long enough. "Was there something else you wanted?"

Mistake. Negan's eyes darken instantly, his smile slowly disappearing as he saunters around the room, inching closer. I feel the air leave my lungs as Negan gives me my answer, undoubtedly taking my question as a challenge. "You know damn well there is. And you love every second of knowing it, don't you? _Shit."_ He briefly breathes a laugh, dragging a hand down his rough salt and pepper beard. "You are one mean little actress. You've been teasing me a lot sweetheart and you should know, I don't like to be fucking teased."

My pulse begins to race to the heat of his words as he wets his lips, catching the way his pupils dilate.

"Don't start believing you're the first woman to play hard to get. Never fucking lasts. Like that shit's supposed to make them feel better about themselves before they jump my dick. Seen my fair share of it with widows here. A whole, fucking waste of time I could have filled pleasing that tight little body of yours."

Damn him. Drawing this out as much as insufferably possible, attempting to influence and build those dangerous cravings. Seems I'm beyond forming words now as I stare the man down.

"Slipping away at the first sight of me, and yet I still hear the way your little pussy skips a beat around me. Even after all this time, you're yet to say how full of shit I am, so I can guarantee you'd be making a gratifying decision for yourself." Negan speaks lowly, borderline growling as he comes closer, the musky scent of leather and something else that was all him, filling my sinuses. One would think the man was begging. Begging me to say the word. Give permission for him to take what he desired. That's all it would take, for this starved animal to ravage. "And I would very, very much enjoy, showing you."

That single word of submission. Right here, right now. My jaw locks, as well as the rest of me. Call it pride if you will, or generally wanting to believe I was better than to think of this a priority right now in all this shit, I keep up the facade to steal his sense of satisfaction, however exceptionally hard it is to ignore the building warmth beneath my navel, and the dull ache forming below. Eventually Negan backs down with a breathy laugh and bounce to his step, before cracking a grin.

"Hot damn. Fucking points for stability, though." The older man muses, getting a kick out of it as expected. "I'm curious to find out how long you can keep this shit up. Offer's been open for a while, doll. I hate to be kept waiting. But something tells me you'll be a spitfire to surprise me." He swings his beloved Lucille over to rest on his shoulder as he states in his most confident voice. "Ohh, we both know you'll be screaming in gratitude real soon."

Still rendered speechless while planted on the spot and giving him a once over, much to his further amusement, I huff cynically. Flashing one last toothy grin as a parting, Negan strides out chin held high to leave me to my thoughts with a smug, satisfied expression, like he did what he had set out to do.

»»—- —-««

Nightfall soon descended on the Sanctuary, the amount of hustling activity inside the walls finally beginning to settle. My mind feels lighter, though still feeling shattered from the run. At this rate, the comforts of my bed will be the only place I'll be found between work schedules. It's strange though. Feeling an odd sense of belonging when helping the commune, despite being an outsider. Assisting the functions of this place, expansions and aiding people who need care more than others, particularly the women and children. Walking from post to post, every so often I would catch the sight of kids playing like the world hadn't ended. There weren't a number here, but the shock to my system when I first came across a child again still remains fresh in my mind. Somehow even in this environment, in this community, some people felt secure enough to start a family? While it was oddly refreshing and a change of scene, feeling content knowing all of us were getting through another day - I'd never understand how some parents had so much hope to start again. A child growing up in this hell... it was cruel.

Tending to the crops always brings back nostalgic memories as I carefully remove the ripe, plump tomatoes and various other vegetables we've learned to appreciate. The dry soil wasn't the best for crops, but everyone had made it work. Shifting the dirt in small mounds with my palms, stripping any shrivelled leaves that were beyond saving, I spot more plants sprouting and peeking through the surface beside me. At least I could isolate myself in my own world during work. I'd attempted earlier when deciding to read on my bed, but the brawl outside my window proved too much of a distraction. All I needed was some solitude, to escape into something... I'd actually wanted to begin writing a novel myself before the outbreak, but never found the time. Ironic that there wasn't enough time to live that life before either.

Sometime later, I find myself sat at a polished, metal table in the food court after helping prepare the meals for the countless hungry mouths to feed. _Serving shit to his flies._ Being left to my own devices, I take in the scene of all these separate groups of people scattered about the spacious room. I can't help but wonder if these people knew each other before it all, or if unfortunate circumstances brought them together, and how close they act to be. The sight flashes a haunting thought in my mind. My friends.. my family. I was starting to forget their faces. Everything that happened was so vivid but, never did I have the chance to return home in search of my family. Whether they be are alive or dead, I have no way of knowing. All I could do was pray one day I'd see them again, but every day I feel that hope gradually slipping away from me.

Upon looking around, of course I spot the contemptible Negan enter with several of his men - followers - trailing behind, including his man joined at the hip, Simon. In his hand however is a slender woman wrapped around his arm like a vice in their usual clad of black that left little to the imagination. Rarely the wives are spotted around the Sanctuary, meaning they must occupy their time either in his quarters or somewhere more secluded. Moments later, I look up from my meal to catch the way Negan sharpens upon me, despite the possessive arm draped around the company sat beside him.

Thoughts just stutter and collapse as I feel very conscious to the force of his predatory gaze, the more I try to ignore it. I hate to feel like I'm being observed. Take a damn picture. The woman practically perching in his lap, whispers something but he takes little interest. Tearing away to try and distract myself by continuing to tuck into my dinner, seconds drag by before my curiosity fuels me to eventually lift my head. Without a hitch, we locked eyes again. I watch him take in a deep breath when I gnaw the inside of my lip in irritation. Shooting Negan a hard scowl, only makes him smirk back widely. Clearly he was playing some kind of game with me.

Thank heavens, Madison wanders over to join me at my table carrying a tray, tearing my attention away completely. I meet the younger blonde's light smile in greeting while she hovers for a moment, gesturing to the empty bench.

"Would you mind?"

"By all means." I shake my head, watching her sink into a spot opposite me as my body relaxes all at once. Finally, someone else to focus on. I catch an understanding smile spreading across her face with a tilt of her head.

"Thanks. Seemed like you could use a distraction."

Grunting disdainfully, I take a stab at the meat with my fork, lifting it to my lips with a sneer. "You'd think in this setting, we were in highschool again. That would've been true hell." Flashing Madison a look, I can sense the topic eating away at her - she manages for a moment before she starts cracking at the seams, opening and closing her mouth. "Madison - "

"I know you don't like talking about it, but I can't sit back watching from the sidelines anymore, not when it makes you shut off like this." She leans in closer. "Is this the reason why you wanna get out of here?" She presses the question, glancing over in their direction as I pick away at my food.

"That ship has sailed. I can't throw this away when there's so much potential with this place. I can make use of it. Who the hell knows when I'd encounter another group out there on the road, if any. Some people haven't made it this far to be behind walls.."

"Well, good. I'm not having you leave me here alone like that." She chuckles.

I crack a smile. "You don't say? You wouldn't let me leave here, alive." Finally, I reluctantly follow her gaze to catch Negan with his starved lips all over his wife, his hand snaking its way up her thigh. The sight alone left an unpleasant taste in my mouth. I draw out a hum, lowering my fork back onto the tray and directing my attention to the window. "Surprisingly, I don't have much of an appetite anymore."

Madison leans back in her seat, shaking her head. "My point. You need closure, that's all. And the highlight of all this; you're acting like it'd be the worst thing you'd do imaginable if you just so happened to concede. Stop being so middle class about it." She teases, trying to lighten the mood. "Were you raised that way, Celestia?"

Not a door I wished to open. "I don't think that's any of your business." I smirk back.

Unfortunately her posture returns serious as she leans in closer. "Hey.. I know you must have your reasons, I don't know the full story. You're being cautious and you have every right to be, there's some twisted people in here and out there." Hitting the nail on the head, Madison shoots me a look. "I'm not encouraging you to do it, but just act on whatever decision you choose, soon_."_

Well, I certainly feel like an open book. With a small roll of my eyes, I finish my meal as the subject is dropped. It was trivial and even more so when someone else voiced it, but this situation was the last obstacle between settling in smoothly into the Sanctuary once and for all. I couldn't very well forward this when my feelings were confused and rattled. Further hours pass as we drift from topic to topic of conversation, before taking into account as she speaks that she's done a lot more jobs inside the walls recently.

"Idea." My eyes narrow. "Your next run, when's it due? I could try and persuade them to sneak you in our next ride out." I inquire.

"Oh. I'm not sure. Simon granted me permission to put runs on hold if I continued twice the work inside the walls. It's only temporary until I'm feeling better. I don't want to be slowing anyone down. I still do post patrols, though."

There something that tells me there was more to it, but I decide not to chase it up. "Shame. I'm sure you're disappointed, there's plenty of action out there you're missing." I drawl with sarcasm. She laughs. I glance out the window again to observe the people guarding the gate and with a click of my tongue, I turn back to her. "See how you feel in a few days, maybe?"

"Yeah. We'll see."

"Alright. Though I feel I should warn you, my guys often like to blast metal when driving out. For.. 'motivation'." I sip my drink beside me. "I like the music, but you can see the problem here."

Madison laughs in disbelief. "That doesn't sound too smart."

"They just don't give a damn." I give a shrug, half-smirking. "I don't think they'll be swayed even after what happened today. They'll be at it again next time, blowing out the speakers as usual. I swear, the dead six feet under could hear us."

"Wow. Almost sounds like you have fun on your runs."

"That's beyond a stretch." I chuckle halfheartedly. "I wouldn't call them fun, even on the best of days."

Madison cracks a humourless smile. "No. I wouldn't either." She mumbles, giving me a look that spoke volumes. That clearly was the end of that conversation.

Lost among our exchanges, I hardly notice the other people dispersing from the food court. I give a sigh when Madison reluctantly gets up and utters a goodnight when she is ushered away to help patrol the fences. Naturally, I'm last to clean up and leave the now eerily empty room.

»»—- —-««

Sat by my lonesome on the steps outside my bunk, bathing under the velvety night sky and its cool, refreshing breeze, I whittle at a block of wood I had scrapped and brought back with me. It was something I picked up from a member of my family before everything happened and now was a perfect way to pass the time. As I scrape and carve, guiding the blade steadily, soft growls from meters away remind me I wasn't _exactly_ alone. I lift my weary head to witness a roamer or two feeling at the fence of their caged areas, unhinging his jaw, and another nearby missing both their limbs, both captured and chained up to be used for prisoners and probably general troublemakers inside the walls, if Negan doesn't decide to kill them on the spot that is. A warning to what happens if someone decides to step out of line, break and bend the rules. They're barely visible in the dark, but I still make out their swaying silhouettes.

They were still company inside the walls, too.

I must have zoned out again that I was oblivious to my bleeding until I felt it trickling down my finger and towards my palm. From experience it was easy to prick or cut yourself like this. I pull out some old, forgotten rag in my pocket to wrap around the wound tightly, already starting to feel it throb against the material. It had been trickling down towards my ring that I wipe it off quickly and thoroughly. I'll put something on it later.

"You still out here breaking curfew?" A sudden shadow approaches to my right with the crunch of gravel beneath feet. The voice is thick with authority and underlying mischief. Oh, it's just Simon.

"Shit." I apologise, casually rising to my feet with a sigh, wood and knife still in hand. Lost track of time again. I didn't even hear any announcement of curfew being in effect.

Walking towards me with his hand gripping the side of his belt, Simon stops at the foot of the stairs and looks at me questioningly when he stares at the trapped walkers opposite. He quirks a brow along with his usual disparaging tone. "Enjoying the view?"

"Oh, yeah. They're right outside my door." I reply dryly, leaning my weight on the metal safety rail.

He watches them for a while with a firm hum before looking to me again curiously. Despite Simon _seeming_ like an honest man - he did somehow have that air about him - I was still wary. He could certainly be holding more secrets than anyone else here. After all, being Negan's other eye, anything that happened out there and in here, makes its way back to him one way or another.

"Alright, I'm going." Beginning to walk up the creaking, metal steps, I suddenly pause in the doorway to glance at him over my shoulder. "Though let me guess, I'll be punished for this later?"

Simon looks to be considering it for a long moment, his eyes squinting with a tilt of his head. "As long as it's not a habit, won't breathe a word. I doubt he would favour hearing about you breaking the rules. That would make things more complicated. Wouldn't want that, now would we?"

"No, we wouldn't." I return, finding that a little unexpected as I continue heading inside, closing the heavy, solid door behind me.

With a short trek down the hollow corridor, I enter my sleeping quarters where my roommate is already snoring loudly away in the darkness. Locating my bed, I collapse with a tired groan, staring up at the ceiling as I recall today's events. I roll to the side to be greeted with the chipped, stained wall, cocooning myself up with a thin blanket I'd scavenged. If the following days were going to be anything like the day I'd just had, I needed all the energy I could get.

»»—- —-««


	3. Chapter 3

»»—- —-««

"You coming, Celeste?" A voice comes from downstairs.

Standing in front of the mirror that stretched to the other end of the wall and touched the tip of the ceiling, I take in my reflection as the nerves continue to swallow me whole that my stomach begins churning. Smoothing down the material of my short evening dress and running my fingers through the sable blackness of my hair, I can only imagine what'll be in store for the both of us tonight, if I can muster the courage to take the old bull by the horns. Sighing softly to steady myself, I begin making my way downstairs, treading carefully and glancing around the room as I do.

My families home was undeniably a mansion, a constant reminder of the future that awaited me, the type of people I belonged to and was in league with. The longer I remained in that house, the longer I wondered if I was to be anything other than the youngest daughter of a rich, dubious man. I always had.. speculations that he was a criminal in hiding. The list was endless.. and I just wanted out. And before me was that very salvation, meeting me with that warm, inviting smile as he stands in our small living room.

"Damn. You look… beautiful." He stares at me adoringly, the pesky heat rushing to my cheeks before he chuckles. "I was starting to think you were escaping through the window up there."

"So do you." I return, approaching him with a devilish smirk as he scoffs softly. "Course not. I couldn't leave you to deal with them on your own. We'd have no hope."

"Well, glad one of us is collected. God knows what your parents are going to say and do… At least we'll have potential witnesses tonight."

With a groan, I throw my arms around his shoulders to hold him close, practically purring. Watching him squirm was always kind of endearing. "Come on, Patrick. It's such a cliché that fathers will kill knowing their daughter's expecting."

"And you really wanna do this, this way? Let them process the whole engagement thing first, before dropping the bombshell of a grandchild."

"Nope. It's decided. No better time than any." I laugh in my throat, grin only growing wider as Patrick groans. My fingers run through and curl in his locks.

"I know the kind of shit you pull. If you leave me alone with your family for a second – "

"Baby…" I lean in to halt his train of thoughts with a soft kiss, then another. "Stop fretting. No matter what happens, everything will work out. Now, here's what we do. We go out, have dinner like a family, we'll talk and listen to my contemptuous father droning on about his incompetent work colleagues, shipment schedules and how I should get a real job… and when the timing's right, we tell them. Okay? It's all about the timing ~ "

Patrick considers me for a moment, before breaking into his usual sarcastic self, his hands coming to rest at my sides. "Sure. Sounds simple. Though I'll be surprised if I'm not castrated. You know what they're gonna say, right?"

"Trust me, it won't be as challenging as you're making it to be." A mischievous snicker then comes to the surface. "I have an idea, but with plenty of other people dining, they'll have no choice but to keep their composure. My family are really not the type to make a scene in public, they never want all that attention nonsense. I more or less have them cornered."

There's a small pause. "That's devious."

"I know."

Patrick shakes his head slowly, his ebony eyes studying my face with a sharp intake of breath. The number of thoughts that must be rushing through his head right. "Okay. Alright. Let's go." He swiftly wraps an arm around my form, pulling me to his toned chest before planting a kiss on the top of my head. He begins slipping on his coat, striding towards the front door. "Face the demons."

I turn to him, somewhat amused. "Excuse me?"

"My demons. I meant my demons."

»»—- —-««

The cool crystal water cascading down my form and gliding across my skin is still incredibly satisfying. Just the concept of having access to showers at all during the end of the world is bliss. It was like another small moment of normalcy between the moments of scavenging, evading flesh-eating monsters and tense encounters with other survivors. Unsurprisingly I had indulged myself the first time I learned about the Sanctuary's running water supply.

Days passed since the curfew incident, knowing they wouldn't be as forgiving if there was a next time. A image flashes back to me upon witnessing a man being punished severely, surrounded by many delivering blow after blow as he lay curled on the ground. Needless to say, that was when this place starting unveiling to show its true colours to me.

Feeling invigorated, I traverse to the food court, passing countless faces lurking about the halls. It's reasonably early that it's almost an empty room, though as more saviours begin to gradually pile in with me, I glance over their shoulders, searching for that familiar face. But it never comes. Averting my attention elsewhere, I hope to catch a glimpse of that blonde hair. But again, there was nothing, nowhere to be seen. A sinking feeling of dread stirred in my gut. Up to this moment, it was becoming no mere coincidence that I'd not come upon her for some time, originally considering perhaps a result of clashing work schedules, but what if it was due to her condition? Had it grown worse? There was no way to cease the overwhelming feeling that something was amiss.

"Screw it." Huffing, I rise out of my seat with haste, barging through the crowd heading inside.

Without thinking more about it, my feet carry me through the number of maze like hallways, footsteps echoing off the walls surrounding me until I finally reach Madison's dorm. Peering inside, the only sectioned window was covered with a thick sheet of cloth, blocking out the morning sunlight to cast the room dimly. Before knocking gently on the wall, I spot her lone form curled up on her bed and a glass of water stood on her bedside. The brief sense of relief washes away upon touching the skin of her shoulder, she was burning up. Despite distinctly recalling Madison informing me she hadn't been outside the walls recently, I swiftly move to her side to check her over for bites anyway. Clear. But, some kind of fever? This was out of my own hands. Trying not to disturb her slumber, I momentarily sneak out of the dark room to make headway for the doctor's office. Carson assures me once again that it's nothing as serious as I was fearing when I lead him back to her room for an examination. I grab a cloth on the way and rinse it under some cool water to place gently on her forehead. He ensures that Madison has plenty of rest and fluids. It should be convincing, but it's not, my mind somehow doesn't settle. How much nutrition is she getting? Has she been working at all? Occurring to me that I will need someone's assistance with that, or rather permission, I sigh deeply. Great.

Hovering outside his door, I hadn't known to be biting my lip as I mentally prepare for the inevitable. Straightening myself and finally knocking firmly, there's a long, empty moment before a grunt and hoarse voice is calling me in. Upon opening the door however, I was met with a somewhat dishevelled Negan, the sight is new and unexpected that I was openly guilty of staring. Though clearly expecting me to be someone else, judging by the expression on his face, he certainly doesn't seem to mind.

"Well, hello there ~ " He studies me intensely, a smirk already forming. "Now this is a fucking pleasant surprise. You've already made my damn morning. What can I do for ya?"

I reply without a beat. "I have a request."

His eyebrows shoot up, catching his interest before motioning me inside. It's been a considerably long time since I was last inside his quarters – since we had spoken that day. While briefly admiring his luxurious room, spotting the leather jacket draped upon an armchair with Lucille propped up next to it, Negan passes me to enter his kitchen area, unsurprisingly near his drinks cabinet. Probably anticipating another long discussion. Leaning his weight back against the counter, he gestures to me, hands sinking into his pants side pockets. There was something unruly attractive about the stance. "Well, I'm listenin darlin'."

"Impractical as it may sound, I'm proposing the possibility to give earned shares to someone else. A friend... hasn't been able to work due to a fever - so it's possible she's a bit scarce, whereas I have more than what I need currently. Carson says it's nothing serious but who knows how long that'll last? That's just how it begins. She could be lying there for goddamn weeks." My jaw tightens. "Food, water, medicine, enough for her until she's on foot again." I explain.

"Listen…" Negan begins, coming off to approach me slowly. "I find it real fucking sweet what you're trying to do, but shit just don't work like that around here. You wanna stay here, you gotta work. Earn your keep. Word got out that I allowed this, every damn asshole and their mother would come to me begging for the same fucking favour, using this as an excuse for motherfuckers who don't do shit around here to get those extra little privileges. Gotta keep the little pricks in line, peaches."

I feel my features hardening, frustration at the situation setting in. "As I said; earned shares." I repeat in a low, business apparent tone, folding my arms.

"I'm sure you've worked hard for them. But it doesn't change my answer."

"Nor would you find me telling a soul. It's not exactly their business." I quirk a brow at him.

"Oh, I know you wouldn't. But one way or a - fucking - other, it'll get out. Everything that happens in here does and it comes right back to me. I just can't have that."

It would spread like wild-fire with several trying the same method, looking for loopholes. Unable to think of another way around this, I consider smuggling… but I wonder if I should even test my luck like that_, _since I feel watched from every damn corner of this place_._

"Come on, doll. I shouldn't have to tell you that, that would be a _big,_ fucking mistake." He emphasises with a dangerous grin, like he'd just cornered his prey.

I break concentration to his perceptions and catch involuntary amusement tugging at the corner of my lips, much to my despair. Touching my chin in an attempt to hide it, it came clear through my voice, as I hum. "Damn. You saw through that?" While I hadn't had faith of his agreement, I was still back to square one.

"Not the first to try, but we have ways to deal with that. Nobody wins."

There's something foreboding about that.

"Then what do you suggest? I stand aside and wait?" I click my tongue, getting restless now the longer I debate about it. With a shaky sigh and turn of my heel, I head for the door. He was probably right. "I see. This was a waste of time, after all."

"Wait a fucking minute, sweetheart. I get what you're fucking doing." Negan proceeds to stop me in my tracks. "Hoping to get a rise out of me, huh? Take advantage that I hate to see a woman displeased."

I glance at him over my shoulder. "Now if I really intended that, you'd know."

"Oh, but I'm onto you."

"Are you now?"

Negan ducks his head chuckling before licking his lips. "Look at you. Coming in here and tryin' to put me in my place. Goddamn. Almost gave me half a fucking hard on, on the fucking spot. But I do think you need reminding of who you're talking to right now." From the force of his stare alone, I feel cemented in place, knowing all too well this hint of seriousness underneath. "I like you, but that doesn't mean free fucking passes. Rules are rules. I know the risks of sickness in here, some pass in their fucking sleep, only to wake up for us to deal with them. I can tell you've seen that shit too. But Carson checked them more than once, assured you its nothing serious, right? Sure he's a prick but he sure as hell knows how to do his damn job. Soon as your friend recovers, they'll be back to working like nothing happened. That's the way shit goes."

Somehow hearing him lay it out like that, oddly eases my nagging thoughts. Carson was always a little evasive about it, causing suspicions that he was withholding information, though he still assured me she'd be okay eventually. Maybe I'd been anticipating the worst upon seeing it happen time and time again. Right now, it was too soon for that.

Running a hand through my hair that he follows closely, I give a nod. "Alright… "

"I get it. You have someone you care about." Negan shrugs a little dismissively.

Leaning against the wooden frame, watching as the man slips on his token, jet black jacket, I feel as though I should take my leave, before he suddenly speaks up.

"I hate to leave you doll, but I have places to be and shit to handle." As he advances again with Lucille now in his grip, he purposefully leans over without asking me to move, to open the door behind me as if inviting me to leave, when he lingers there for a moment, pulling back ever so slowly. The space between us is slim. Suddenly enveloped, Negan's returning musky scent becomes unexpectedly enticing.

In that instant, I have a longing to be wrapped up in his arms, hands clambering over my form. Boldly meeting his dark, half-lidded eyes, my breath hitches at the way he looks to have discovered all my secrets. Was my heart pounding hard enough to be heard?

Watching the rise and fall of the older man's chest, he makes no indication to act on anything. I can't decide whether it's relieving or frustrating. Undoubtedly, he can sense the heat as my sudden need for him continues to fog my mind. The more I think about it, the more I feel that same rousing feeling in the pit of my stomach. It's always the same, whatever defences I have, he breaks them down almost skilfully. All in that brief moment, I witness his pupils dilating again as he drinks in the sight of me, undressing me slowly with his lustful eyes. Too late realisation sets in that he's waiting for me to make the move. Anticipating it.

Before my body can even consider falling into Negan on its own accord, he pulls away to leave me entranced for a second. I gnaw my inner lip. _The asshole._

"Now if you'll excuse me, my wives won't screw themselves… well, they might." Negan laughs heartily, motioning me outside first. "Now, ain't that a damn sight."

As soon as I'm back out in the hallway with him trailing an inch behind me. ""What a fantasy world you must live in."

Negan turns to me with genuine flash of offence at first, quickly morphing into the most fiendish grin I've ever received from him yet. I feel it won't be the last either. As if impressed, something between a groan and a laugh ruptures from his throat before swinging Lucille over his shoulder, not saying anything else as he strides off, whistling cheerfully. With a small roll of my eyes, I walk away in the opposite direction, absently brushing the ring of my finger delicately.

Within moments, noticing a spur of activity outside, I halt in the doorway, spotting two large pick up trucks parked in front of the main gate. Several saviours slurring profanities climb inside loudly, including who I can only assume is Simon closing the door behind them. My feet carry me outside in an attempt to settle my curiosity, finding a large, ragged man stood stiffly nearby, also observing the scene. I wonder if I'm the only one oblivious to what's going on.

"Do you know what's happening?" I ask the stranger, who looks me once over before answering with a sneer.

"What's it to you?" I flash him a firm look of warning. "Collection. They set out like this and come back with a haul of good shit. I hear it's Hilltop they're headed to this time."

"Hilltop?"

"Fucking hell. Another community."

So this was the retrieval of produce I'd heard wind about. Were they trades, or were they taken by force? If that was the true nature of this place, it honestly wouldn't surprise me. I frown. "How often does this happen?"

"Every week. Two weeks. Where do you think most of our stuff comes from? From runs?" He turns to me mockingly. "You ever been on a clearing mission out there? Well that's apparently the kind of shit we do in return."

Processing the saviour's words, I glance back to watch them pull out onto the roads, leaving a cloud of dust their wake. Often left wondering of such a huge community and its connections, now with potential confirmation of other groups trading or doing labour for us… hmm. Negan had more power than I originally thought. It also sparked my curiosity of the other communities, how they lived, how their own set of rules were. The people. Good. Bad. Were they any different from this place?

»»—- —-««

The following day, my group's been assigned another clearance mission, just when it felt like I was barely back from our last close run. Whatever hell were we in for this time. Hopping into the back of the truck, I rest my arm on my knee as I listen to the others loading up, a female with short cut hair climbing in next to me. To my surprise however, a form in the distance stumbling outside makes a sudden appearance to see us off – perhaps due our shared conversation under a week ago. Though supposed to be recovering, I'm still touched and relieved to see her face this once. To enhance this moment, the guys begin announcing themselves to the dead with their choice of hardcore metal music as predicted, feeling the harsh bass vibrating the whole of the vehicle. I'm sure our brains will be falling out of our ears very soon. Forget walkers. It encourages me to pull a finger gun to my head with a deadpan expression though despite Madison cracking a smile, I'm far more distracted by another unforeseen sight of Negan upon the balcony, with a wife in hand and Dwight standing beside him.

Loading my rounds and slipping a machete into its hold, I sense the earth-shaking eyes observing us closely from above. Why he'd decided to show himself was a mystery as usual, and neither short lived as he continues to stand there watching us prepare. Whatever reason, I catch the subtle glance in my direction, to which I pin him there.

"You all set?" Our same driver asks, leaning over in his seat to address me and the girl perched next to me.

I shrug it off and cock the gun before nodding and knocking on the glass as the last person climbs inside the truck. Apart from scavenging supplies and clearing areas, Negan wouldn't turn down the opportunity for new blood working for him, so when we do come face to face with the occasional survivor or small group, the offer is made. Cautious procedure of course, so it doesn't hurt to keep a watchful eye on them whilst holding a metaphorical knife to their jugular on the way back.

"Alright! We're heading out!" He yells cheerily over the music as we drive out at full pedal. Anyone would think we hadn't encountered a massive herd previously. The others don't share the same amount of energy as most of them slouch in sitting positions, heads hung with their weapons tucked in their laps. Hm. I should probably try and learn the names of these people..

Security from inside the walls of the Sanctuary slowly fades as we drive further away, leaving it all behind once more. With my best effort, I holler over the deafening music and throaty screams. "Remember. Don't waste ammo unless you have to!"

The burly guy booms just as loud as he regards me through the mirror. "What?!"

"I said, don't waste am – "

"What?!" He interrupts, a shit eating grin in the reflection.

I shake my head with a chuckle. "Alright, asshole!"

»»—- —-««


End file.
